


Let It Be True

by flimflam99



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flimflam99/pseuds/flimflam99
Summary: Post TFP. Molly tries to get over telling Sherlock that she loves him.





	Let It Be True

Every time the morgue door opened I had to look to see if it was Sherlock. Half hoping, half dreading that it was. Half hoping because since that phone call almost two months ago I have hardly seen Sherlock and half dreading because it is my fault that I haven’t seen him, because I can’t bear to be in the same room as him.

Because he knows now, you see and every time I see him I’m reminded that I’ve told him that I love him and it’s changed things between us. He explained everything that happened, John phoned me and asked me, begged me, to hear him out, if not for me or Sherlock than for him and Rosie. So I did and I forgave him but when he went to say more I told him I had to go and get some sleep as I had to work the next day.

He forced me to tell him that I loved him and I made him say it first, but two wrongs don’t make a right whichever way you look at it. To this day I don’t know what I was hoping to achieve by making him say it, and say it like he meant it. I’ve hurt myself more than him and now I feel as though I’ve taken two steps back with Sherlock. He still acts the same and we are still friends but it’s something inside me that’s changed. It took me so long to get on an even keel with him, to get to a place where I was comfortable in his presence, content with just being his friend.

But now he knows, now I’ve opened my big mouth and actually said the words, I can’t deny it, can I? And every time I see him I’m so scared of how he will interpret everything I say and everything I do, I just can’t get away from him fast enough. It doesn’t help that every day he looks more and more gorgeous, while I seem to get thinner and more gaunt with each day that passes. I can’t be bothered to eat much or do my hair or go shopping. I know Sherlock’s taken note, hell even John has noticed. I need to get my equilibrium back, get back to how I was before so that I can go back to being Sherlock’s friend……….

\-----------------------------------

The morgue door opens and my head shoots round to see who it is before my brain has caught up with it. It’s Mike Stamford and he’s grinning away.

“Molly! There you are. Have you got a minute?” I nod my head as I’ve just finished with Mr Jefferson so I pull of my gloves and follow Mike into the back office.

“I’ve got a favour to ask, Molly. You see I arranged a little weekend break for myself and the wife….” I switched off then, I knew what was coming, it was supposed to be my weekend off and now I’d have to work and cover for Mike.

“……..you don’t even have to drive down as I’d ordered a car for us and the driver is more than willing to take you instead. So will you go?” Mike looked expectantly at me and I just blinked.

“Sorry, what? Go where?” 

Mike huffed a bit.

“I booked a cottage for Anne and I this weekend but something’s come up and we can’t go. I can’t get a refund on the booking so I wondered if you wanted to go instead? Look, Molly I’ll be honest. You don’t seem your normal, happy, diligent self. Maybe a weekend break is what you need?” 

“You want me to go instead? I’m sorry, Mike but I can’t afford it. I had to get a new Kitchen put in and I’m skint.” 

“Oh no, I don’t expect any money, Molly. I won’t get my money back and I just thought I’d rather my favourite pathologist got the benefit of it. Please say yes, Molly.” Mike batted his eyelashes at me, and I had to laugh he looked so funny.

“Ok, ok. I’ll go. Did you say you’d booked a car?” Mike nodded and then said he would text me the details. I couldn’t wait, it was the answer to my prayers. Time away from work, my home (which didn’t feel like home anymore, hence the new Kitchen), even John and Rosie, but most of all time away from Sherlock Holmes.

\-------------------------------

It’s Thursday evening and I’m waiting in my flat for the car to arrive. Apparently, it’s an arrangement that the owners of the cottage have with the local private car hire company that if needed they will pick up their guests. John Watson is with me, Rosie is in her carrycot on the sofa. Bless him, when he heard that I was going away for a long weekend he kindly offered to keep an eye on Toby for me. I’ve left strict instructions that Sherlock is not allowed in my flat, or anywhere near my cat. No doubt it will fall on deaf ears but at least I’ve made my position clear.

The doorbell rings and John is out the door with my suitcase before I know where I am. After a quick word with John, the driver gets back in the car and I carry Rosie out in her carry cot and lock up behind me. John has put my bags in the boot and opens the back passenger door for me to get in. I give him a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Molly, have a great time. Don’t forget to text and let me know how it’s going.” John gave me a rather strange look but I shrugged it off and got in the car. 

I settled down and the car started off. It was quite a posh car, I have no idea what make and it had a sliding partition between the driver and passenger so that I had complete privacy. I sat back and dozed off for a bit as I was tired after working all day at the morgue before hurrying home to pack.

It was the sound of violin music that woke me. It was coming from the speakers and of course it reminded me of Sherlock. Although to be fair, a lot of things remind me of Sherlock. We were driving through a small town and the streetlights were brightly lit. I slid the partition across and leaned forward to speak to the driver, to ask how much longer we would be driving, when I caught sight of his hands. Capable hands, with long and slender fingers……., he glanced at me at the same time as I snapped my head round to look at him. I quickly sat back, slamming the partition shut, my heart hammering and my fists clenching, because the driver was Sherlock.

\----------------------

He should have worn gloves was my first irrational thought. I knew his hands better than my own, seen them when he gestures at some important clue on a body, seen them wrapped around a microscope and even felt them once as they caressed my skin………

It was the night that Mary died and I was working in the morgue when Greg Lestrade came in. He took me aside and told me and the world suddenly seemed a much darker place. Greg got Sally Donovan to take me home and she would have come in but I said I was tired and just needed to sleep, also I had an inkling. Nobody knew where Sherlock was, he had disappeared.

I had a shower and got some fresh pyjamas out of the airing cupboard before going to bed. When I entered my bedroom Sherlock (as I’d guessed) was lying with his back towards me on the far side of my bed, cuddling one of my cushions tightly to his chest, his head buried in it. His coat, jacket and shoes were lying on the floor and I stepped carefully over them in the semi-darkness before getting in beside him, I hesitated for a moment and then gently ran my hand up and down his arm. He flinched but I didn’t stop and eventually he seemed to relax so I rested my head on his back and drew him further towards me.

I was falling asleep when he suddenly turned round and buried his face in my chest and I could feel the moisture of his silent tears through my pyjama top which brought on my own tears which fell onto Sherlock’s curly hair. I don’t know how long we stayed like that but suddenly he raised his face up to mine and kissed me tenderly on the lips and we made love to each other with a slow sweetness that was, well, perfect.

And then he left. He got up, got dressed, kissed the top of my head, all while I was pretending to be asleep. I thought sleeping with Sherlock would break me apart but it had the opposite effect. It was such an out-of-world experience, as though time had stopped, that it didn’t seem real but was all too real. It energised me if anything, to know that Sherlock cared and trusted me enough to come to me when his world was falling apart, to be comforted but also to comfort.

I was shaken out of my reverie by the door of the car opening. I hadn’t heard the car stop but there was Sherlock holding the door open, holding his hand out to help me out of the car. I took his hand and fought the urge to hold it tightly and never let it go – ever, and got out of the car.

He dropped my hand and went over to open the boot and take out my case (there was another case in there that he didn’t take out) and his coat. He threw his coat on and then taking my case, gestured for me to follow him up the path to the cottage. He opened the door, placed the case inside, handed me the key and then spoke for the first time.

“There you go Molly. I’ll pick you up on Monday” and he turned to walk back down the path.

“Hang on a minute, where are you going?” I run after him and grab his arm and he stops. “What’s going on?” I demand.

“You’ve been avoiding me. I thought maybe we could talk, clear the air but I don’t know what I’m doing, Molly and I don’t know what to say to make it right between us again.” He stared at me, looking forlorn and utterly miserable – not his puppy dog face but genuine misery – and my heart stuttered in my chest.

“Sherlock.” I whispered, reaching out to grab his other hand. “You’ve done nothing wrong, I just need time to get over it. Come inside, it’s getting late.” I tugged on his arm and he came with me back up into the house, he picked up my case and walked up the stairs with it and I followed. He seemed to know where he was going.

“Have you been here before?” I queried. The expression on his face spoke volumes and I raised my eyebrows at him in suspicion.

“It belongs to my parents. One of their numerous holiday cottages they have scattered over the country.” Sherlock put my case on the bed and then turned to me, his head slightly tilted as though I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

“So you arranged all this? But I don’t understand, why?” Sherlock came towards me and took my hands in his, suddenly all serious concern.

“Because I’m worried about you. You look ill, Molly and it’s all my fault, I did this to you.”

“Sherlock, I’m fine.” I protested but he gave me a small shake and pointed look. I broke out of his grasp and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Ok, so I’m not fine. It’s just all got on top of me, what with losing Mary and you and John falling out and everything else.” I let my voice trail away.

Sherlock sat next to me on the bed, his gaze intense and I just decided to tell him the truth.

“I told you that I love you Sherlock. Do you know how that makes me feel? Oh, I know you probably already knew but I hadn’t actually said it out loud. But it’s out there now and it’s left me feeling vulnerable. I just need to get myself back to how I was before, get back to being a friend of Sherlock Holmes, and I need time to that, Sherlock, it’s not going to happen overnight.” 

I finally managed to look up at him and he was staring straight ahead at the wall, a puzzled look on his face and then he turned to me, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“But I told you that I loved you, too.” 

“I made you say that, Sherlock!” He could be exasperating sometimes.

“Well I made you say it!” He countered, his expression mutinous.

“It’s true for me, though isn’t it?” I huff and then his expression changed, lightened as he finally caught on.

“Oh! I see. You thought I didn’t mean it?” Sherlock smiled suddenly and leaned closer. I leaned back and his hands came out and steadied me before I could fall off the bed. He leaned closer still and buried his nose in my hair by my ear. “I did mean it, though.” He whispered.

"But..." He wouldn't let me finish though and he turned my face so he could kiss me gently. Then he smiled, let me go and stood up.

"I'd better go." He moved a step away from me and I grabbed his hand to stop him.

"Where are you going?" I ask in bewilderment, standing up.

He took both my hands in his.

"This is your weekend, to do what you want. You don't have to worry about work or me or John and Rosie. You can just be."

"You're not staying? But the other case in the car?" Sherlock reddened and looked away. 

"That was John's idea. In case the car broke down or something." 

I thought back to when I saw John earlier, the look on his face and I looked up into Sherlock's blue-green eyes and saw the love in them and deep inside a hint of passion.

I squeezed his hands tighter and stepped closer to him, lifting myself up on tiptoes to brush my lips against his.

"Stay" I breathed against his mouth before capturing his lips again.


End file.
